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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23281615">Choosing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson'>fawatson</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Black Jewels - Anne Bishop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:55:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,934</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23281615</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Family relationships when one has a much darker jewel than relatives.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Worldbuilding Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Choosing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentacledicks/gifts">tentacledicks</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>Request:</b> </p><p>We don't get much of a focus on how people learn to be the adults they become, so I'd love to see more of a 'standard' Blood education and experience with Courts. </p><p>Also: Rainier loves men, and Daemon picks up on that, but it's not actually the primary issues Rainier's family has with him. </p><p> </p><p>  <b>Disclaimer: </b></p><p> </p><p>I do not own these characters and make no profit by them.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reydon stood before her, still young but a man grown now, telling her he was going.  Not asking his dearly loved mother for permission – telling.  Saying it nicely, even apologetically.  But announcing his decision rather than asking for advice before making the decision which, in her heart of hearts she had known must come someday, but never wanted to face up to.  Not for the first time, Sophie felt at a loss when dealing with her youngest.  </p><p>* * * * * </p><p>To some extent Sophie expected to feel at a loss when dealing with a boy.  After all, Reydon was a male; she was female, and a hearth-witch to boot.  While all mothers felt they knew more about their children - boys or girls - in most respects than their fathers ever could; that did not hold true for Craft.  There, it was his father who would normally have been expected to understand the boy more than his mother, who would be expected to guide him through his initial lessons in Craft and remind him about Protocol, helping him to learn its application to day-to-day life.  </p><p>Indeed, that had been the case when Reydon was small.  Jack was a Warlord, while from infancy it had been clear young Reydon was a Prince, but Protocol was Protocol and no father would tolerate undue precocity from his youngest child.  Caste had made no difference to that.  But even though quickly quashed, Sophie and Jack had welcomed their son’s attitude as a sign he was destined to do well in his career.  </p><p>“He is a Prince,” after all, said Jack.  </p><p>“And very bright in the still-room,” said Sophie.  “If he were a girl, I’d suggest becoming a Healer.”  </p><p>“Not for a boy,” Jack reproved.  </p><p>“No, not for a boy,” Sophie agreed.  “But perhaps one of those technical colleges where they do metalwork, or study rocks.”  </p><p>Different he had been from their girls, now all in their teens and apprenticed to various crafts, but no less loved, and a welcome son for Jack after three daughters.  </p><p>What had changed things was the birthright ceremony shortly after Reydon’s eleventh birthday.  He had been supposed to have it the year before but an untimely piece of mischief when visiting his uncle's farm one summer led to him falling out of the large oak tree that stood near the barn.  A broken leg had delayed the birthright ceremony until he was able to walk into the sanctuary unaided.  His father stood proudly by his side as he entered the cavern.  </p><p>Many years before, Sophie's three older children – all girls, all Witches – had come out from the Sanctuary smiling with joy, clutching White, Tiger-Eye and the palest blush Rose in their hands.  Reydon, too, had come out smiling, pleased to show off his beautiful green-blue Opal.   She remembered thinking ‘where did <i>that</i> come from’?   (In many respects she had never stopped wondering.)  His father, gifted with a Yellow jewel, had had no doubt.  The second half of the birthright ceremony confirmed paternity.  It was almost unprecedented for a father so named to refuse, but Jack had, frowning blackly at the jewel his son held.  It was something Sophie would not forget - could not forgive: her son's bewildered hurt when his father rejected him.</p><p>Bitter words had been exchanged later that evening after Reydon was in bed.  In vain had Sophie reminded her husband that she had a brother who held a darker Jewel – who was a <i>Warlord Prince</i> for Darkness sake!  Jack packed an overnight case and moved to his sister’s home that evening; a haulage firm moved the rest of his things a week later.  Their marriage had been a comfortable and convenient arrangement rather than one of soulmates.  Nonetheless, it was a loss; she would never have chosen to raise her family without a husband.  She did not like being accused of something she knew herself innocent of.  She resented her husband’s suspicions; he ought to know her better.  And when she looked at Reydon, her only son, the afterthought of their now-failed marriage, she felt a peculiar mix of love, the need to protect, and unwilling resentment.  It wasn’t his fault; he had done nothing wrong.  But the complaisant, even tenor of her existence was disrupted nonetheless.  </p><p>School life changed for Reydon the next term.  He would have changed school regardless.  All children moved the term after their birthright ceremony; it is why most birthright ceremonies were scheduled at roughly the same time of year.  One <i>could</i> do them at any time of year; but it was nicer for children to change schools with their friends, not piecemeal throughout the year.  Discussions about where they would go began months before they visited Sanctuary.  Parents began looking for a good apprenticeship for children whose talents rested in their hands.  Mothers talked to their local Priestess or Black Widow when they had particularly talented daughters.  Those parents who wanted their children to go to college normally took their offspring on visits to see the school closest to them.  Reydon knew his parents were proud he showed a gift for book-learning in a way none of his sisters had.  He had known himself destined for college, along with a handful of his friends.  However, he had not expected to be sent to boarding school Amdarh; none of his friends went with him.  In fact, he’d never heard of <i>anyone</i> going there. </p><p>“Your uncle went here,” said his mother, when she took him at the beginning of the school year.   </p><p>“Uncle Braden?” Reydon was astonished.  His uncle owned a very prosperous chicken farm and had recently bought the neighbouring pig farm for his oldest son as a wedding present.  But he had always seemed more interested in animal husbandry and fishing - hardly the type to have excelled at school.  </p><p>“No, your Uncle Rainier.”</p><p>Reydon had only a dim memory of his mother’s younger brother visiting one Winsol when he was much younger.  He had seemed to sort of hover on the fringes of adult conversations, listening a lot and not saying much.  His Aunt Ellen was a bit like that but she always organised games for the children; when he was younger, he’d always liked Aunt Ellen.  The man Reydon remembered hadn’t made much effort to play with the younger crowd any more than he seemed to want to talk to the adults. He had just seemed…a bit odd.  </p><p>“No, there’s nothing <i>wrong</i> with him,” replied his mother when he ventured to ask whether he should keep his connection quiet, “not exactly.  In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to find him listed on the school’s alumni wall of fame.  He joined the Dark Queen’s second circle when she formed her Court.” </p><p>Reydon knew his jaw had dropped. </p><p>“He is quite respectable,” she allowed, "even if his talents took him to darker paths than I, for one, would ever want for you.  Our family has never produced a black sheep, and I trust never will.”  Her gaze was stern, and Reydon squirmed uncomfortably, even though he knew he had done nothing he needed to be ashamed of.    </p><p>“You know how close-knit we are as a family; your uncle was more suited to Court life than family life.” She skirted around her brother’s sexual preferences, preferring not to remember, still less mention, his clashes with his father and older brother after Braden walked into the barn unexpectedly one afternoon and came face-to-face with Rainier’s...proclivities.   </p><p>“He came away with a Black Opal when he made his offering to the Darkness; no one was very surprised when he gravitated to a powerful Queen.”  She paused before adding, “we just didn't have much in common with him."  She looked thoughtfully at her youngest.  "You might though...."  She gave a decisive nod before adding, "he lives near Amdarh; I’ll ask him to visit.  I don’t like the thought of leaving you here unprotected.  One hears such stories about schools where children live too far away from their families to be visited.” </p><p>Reydon bristled, “I’m not a child!” </p><p>“No…but you are not fully grown and…you are <i>my</i> child, Reydon.” She smiled, “even if you have shot up 9 inches in the last three months and I now have to look up at you.  Humour your old mother who wants your uncle to look in on you from time to time.”  </p><p>And so began his education.  Uncle Rainier came to see him once that first term and took him out for an afternoon, plying him with ice-cream and buying him a kite, before leaving him with a large bag of toffee, a box of chocolate-dipped cherries, and tray of marzipan fruits to share with his friends.  It set the pattern of visits for the next two years.  </p><p>However, extraordinary weather meant the following year he could not go home for Winsol.  He resigned himself to staying at school.  He would not be the only boy unable to go home.  However, the Head had a different idea.  Rainier arrived and whisked him off to a townhouse he shared with a most extraordinary Grey-jewelled witch, who had decidedly peculiar notions about suitable uses of Craft, and laughed at what she called “petty-minded provincialism.”  Uncle Rainier transformed in an instant from the easy-going indulgent uncle into a dangerous Warlord Prince when Surreal tried to use Craft during her moon-time, and Reydon, who had watched in wonderment, received a lecture on Protocol he would never forget.  </p><p>Thereafter, while he spent most of his holidays with his mother, at least once a year Reydon stayed with Uncle Rainier.  He was with his uncle when, in his last year of college, he made the offering to the Darkness and came away with Sapphire.  Surreal helped him to shop for a signet ring to have it set; his uncle helped him to compose the letter he wrote back home telling his mother of his new jewel.  </p><p>* * * * * </p><p>Reydon had asked Surreal’s advice, thinking as a woman she might have insights into how to convince his mother this was the right decision.  She had just laughed cynically and said she thought asking a crow about a songbird was never a good idea.  She told him to ask his uncle.  </p><p>Rainier had looked at him with wistful, sad eyes.  “Your mother was always my favourite sister.  I never had much time for Lillian or Ellen, nor they for me.  And Braden is just stuffy and blinkered.   But your mother…Sophie has a loving heart.   She will have been planning for your return, you know.”  </p><p>“I know,” Reydon answered.   </p><p>“Be gentle,” was the advice finally given.  “She cannot hold you, nor will she want to when she realises you do not just hold a pretty blue stone, but a large jewel of considerable strength.  Life in a small village is good for many; but not for a young man with a lot of power at his disposal and his way to make in the world.”  </p><p>Reydon had practiced this over and over in his mind, thinking of all the things his mother might say.  He would be apprenticing in the Court of the Queen of Halaway; he stayed scrupulously silent about Halaway’s connections to the SaDiablo family.  Over the years he had learned it had been less his uncle’s preference for Court life and more precisely which Court he had joined that his family had struggled to come to terms with.  </p><p>In the end, however, his mother said nothing he anticipated. </p><p>“Who will you stay with when you are not needed at Court?” she asked. </p><p>“Uncle Rainier.” </p><p>She nodded.  This also was not unexpected.</p>
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